


Attraction

by magicconchshel



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Crushes, Dream Sex, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28057269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicconchshel/pseuds/magicconchshel
Summary: Prowl cannot imagine why Jazz has taken such a liking to him.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 21
Kudos: 119





	1. Prowl

“Prowl,” Optimus said. “I’d like you to meet Jazz, our new head of Special Operations.”

Prowl’s optics wandered from the map on the table to the mechs on the other side of the room. Optimus, standing closer to Prowl, blocked his view of Jazz, but he could still see that both were looking towards him expectantly. He crossed the room and offered his servo. Jazz took it and held it firmly in his own. 

“It’s a pleasure,” Prowl said.

“I look forward to working with you,” Jazz replied. 

They were the same height, Prowl noticed. He did not have to look up to meet his optics like he had to do with some of the other officers. It was a welcomed change. 

“Would you be willing to debrief Jazz?” Optimus asked. “I believe you would be best suited to do so.”

“Of course,” Prowl said. “This way.”

He led Jazz over to the table with the map hologram displayed. As he spoke, Prowl could feel Jazz’s optics on him despite him wearing a visor. Jazz’s attention seemed to be directed at Prowl rather than the hologram on display. Prowl was suddenly conscious of every move he made. 

When Prowl finished his spiel, he compiled a stack of datapads and set them in Jazz’s servos. “Read up on these,” he said. 

“Aw, already giving me homework?” 

“It is vital for you to inform yourself on the current climate of the army,”

Before Prowl could continue, Jazz slapped him on the back and said, “I’m just kidding around. I’ll read it, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Prowl turned back to the map. “Once you’re caught up, I can begin to incorporate you and your team into my plans.”

“I look forward to it.” Jazz smiled. “I think we’ll make a great team.”

* * *

Prowl was alone in his quarters, filing data pads on the shelf in his room. He could not get Jazz out of his helm. No mech had ever stared at him in that manner. Jazz looked interested in what he had to say. It must have been his imagination. 

Jazz’s smile seemed so genuine. But he was an Ops Mech. Mecha in that department were masters of disguise and manipulation, never lasting long unless they had a knack for deception. Jazz could very well be putting on a show for Prowl to gain his favor so he won’t station him in compromising positions. Wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried that. 

This will backfire if Prowl puts too much energy into it. He had been briefed on Jazz before meeting him. He was liked by everyone. Jazz treats everyone with the same charm and it would not make sense for Prowl to lose his helm over someone treating him with respect and giving him an ounce of attention. Jazz was simply meeting the standard. 

* * *

Prowl sat at his desk in his office, stylus between his digits as he read through Ratchet’s latest report. The door chimed and he pressed a button under his desk to open it. In the doorway, stood Jazz. 

“Hey, Prowl,” he greeted. “Was wondering if you had that intel I was looking for.”

Jazz had contacted him earlier about retrieving data regarding an upcoming mission he was helping to plan. Prowl, being authorized to hand out classified intel, had asked him to come by his office, saying it would be easier and safer to trade off information that way. 

“I do. One moment.”

Prowl pushed away from his desk and opened a drawer by his leg and rummaged through. The datapad was around here somewhere. 

In front of him, Jazz ambled around Prowl’s office, pausing in front of the desk, then wandering off after seeing something shiny across the room. A few times, Prowl lifted his helm to catch a glimpse of what Jazz was doing. He was stopped at a shelf, ogling at the knick-knacks Prowl kept. 

“This is nice,” he said, pointing at a crystal. 

Prowl looked up and replied, “Thank you. It was a gift from my brother.”

“Is it special?”

Special?

“I suppose in the sense of sentimental value, they are special.”

“Do they bring you good luck or something?”

“Oh, no they do not, as far as I know.” Prowl held out the datapad. “Here’s the intel.”

Jazz took the datapad from him and Prowl watched him leave out the door. 

* * *

Prowl didn’t know where they were. Jazz’s servos were all over him. They fondled his wings and groped his waist. He was staring right into his optics. No visor. 

He leaned forward and his lips were on him now. His spark was light and his frame had melted. When was the last time he had felt like this?

Prowl didn’t think he had ever felt this way and he doubted he ever would. 

While Prowl lay in his berth, willing himself to go back into recharge, he could not get Jazz’s optics out of his helm. They were burned into his mind. The image would not leave him. He had never seen Jazz without his visor, but was so curious, his processor had conjured up an image in his dreams. 

Later that lunar cycle, when Prowl was finally floating in recharge, his previous dream found its conclusion. He and Jazz laid together on a berth. Whose it was, he could not place. They faced each other, on their sides, and Prowl reached out to caress Jazz’s bare face. 

He had always wanted to do this. Prowl, an avid reader, had read a few romance novels and often saw this gesture used. He admired it for its intimacy and tenderness. 

The next cycle, as Prowl sat in a meeting with Jazz across the table, he could still feel Jazz’s weight on his chassis and heat in his digits. If he thought about it for too long, it still felt like Jazz was pressed against him. 

Prowl could have sworn that Jazz was looking at him throughout the meeting. He was stealing glances, he had to be. Prowl could feel and see those optics drilling into him. Maybe he knew about the dream. There was no way, but it was the only explanation. 

* * *

Prowl tried his hardest to forget about the dream. He really did. Just when he thought he had a grip on himself, Jazz would smile at him or bring him energon or lay a servo on his shoulder or back. He would stiffen and hope Jazz wouldn’t notice. 

During the cycle, Prowl’s mind would wander. He would think about Jazz and what he was doing. He wondered what his quarters looked like and what he was like when he was younger, before Prowl knew him. 

While he had access to Jazz’s personal files, Prowl stopped himself from reading through. That was too far. Once he did that, then he knew he had a problem. 

He felt pathetic. Were his standards really that low? Was he so decrepit that a smile and brush of the shoulder was all it took to win him over? It sure seemed like it because Jazz had done nothing to outwardly flirt with him. Or at least he thought. No one had ever flirted with him so he doubted he knew what it looked like. But based on those romance novels and occasional film he had seen, this wasn’t it. 

One lunar cycle, Prowl gave in and told Smokescreen about his attraction. His brother sat quietly on the couch while he talked about his daydreaming and paranoia over the situation. 

At the end of his speech, Smokescreen said, “Yeah, I think you’re just aroused.”

“Huh?”

“I think you just want to interface with him,” he said. “Or, I don’t know, maybe you’re just touch starved. Either way, I don’t know why you’re so freaked out. Lots of mecha feel this way. In fact, I’m sure lots of mecha feel this way about Jazz. He’s pretty popular, you know.”

“I  _ do  _ know. And it doesn’t help. He could be friends with anyone, so why does he choose me?”

Smokescreen shrugged. “I don’t know. He could be attracted to you too.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Right, right.”

“So what do I do?”

“I’m not sure. I doubt you want to talk to him about this.”

“I don’t.”

“So, I don’t know. Suffer?”

* * *

Jazz strode into his office that next cycle. As he entered, Prowl put down the datapad he was working on and raised his helm to give Jazz his attention. 

“Wanna go get a cube with me?” he asked. 

Prowl knew he shouldn’t. It would be adding fuel to the fire. 

“I’m busy, but I could spare a klik,” he replied. 

“Great, we’ll make it fast.”

He and Jazz walked side by side all the way to the rec room. They did not stay and chat with anyone, simply got their cubes and walked back to Prowl’s office. When they arrived, Jazz stopped outside of the door and thanked him for joining him. 

“We should do this more often,” Jazz said. 

“I agree.”

Jazz’s visits did not stop there. He was at Prowl’s office nearly every day around mid-cycle. He either invited Prowl to come get a cube with him or already had two cubes in servo. Prowl appreciated the gesture, but was often so focused on Jazz's upcoming visits that it was hard to get work done. 

He also wondered what he was keeping Jazz from. Jazz was a popular mech, surely there were others who would also appreciate his time. 

Prowl could not figure out what would be obligating him to come visit him every cycle other than pity. Did Jazz feel so much sorrow for him that he was obligated to provide company? Maybe Prowl should make a better effort to be seen in public with his brothers. That would prove to Jazz that he had a social life. 

Sure enough, right on time, Jazz showed up at his door. 

“Wanna grab a cube?” he asked. 

“Sure.”

Prowl stood up and followed him to the rec room. They grabbed their cubes and left, never staying long. Prowl drank his quickly, not wanting Jazz to feel like he had to stay for longer than necessary. 

When they got inside his office, Prowl shut the door and took a deep vent. “I appreciate you coming to get energon with me,” he began. “But you do not have to if you do not want to.”

“What?” Jazz said with a laugh. 

“I said you don’t have to get energon with me every cycle.”

“What do you mean? I like doing it,” Jazz said. “Do you like it?”

“I do, but I don’t understand why you do it.”

Jazz smiled. “Because I like being around you.”

“You’re just about the only one.”

“Now  _ that  _ can’t be true.”

“It is.” Prowl turned to set his empty cube on his desk. “Who else spends time around me?”

“Your brothers. I see you together all the time.”

Out of Jazz’s line of sight, Prowl rolled his optics. “Someone who  _ isn’t  _ morally obligated,” he argued. “I still don’t understand why you make such an effort to be around me.”

“I just told you.”

Prowl paused. He was being rude right now and Jazz was just taking it. How was he not angry, or at the very least, annoyed? 

Prowl continued, “You must want something then. What is it?”

“I do. I’d like to be friends.”

“I don’t believe that. There’s something else.”

“Ok. Lovers, then?”

Prowl’s wings shot upward and he stared at Jazz. He cannot speak correctly, although he tried. Jazz pursed his lips and looked him up and down. 

He watched Jazz turn around. He had never seen Jazz look like that before. It was not angry. Frustrated, maybe? Disappointed? So hard to tell with that visor. 

Jazz put a servo on the door and said, “I’ll give you some time to think it over.” 


	2. Jazz

There was a handsome mech across the room who would not look at Jazz no matter how hard he tried to get his attention. He and the Prime had walked past him several times as they toured the Command Center, yet he remained fixated on the screen on the table. Occasionally, he would glance up to answer the question of a colleague, but would then go right back to his work. 

Jazz couldn’t explain why, but there was something attractive about it. His body language was confident and authoritative. There was a regalness about him with his simplistic paint job and soft optics. 

His helm flicked upward when the Prime called him over. Their optics never met, but Jazz was thrilled to finally get a fuller view of him as he neared. 

“Prowl,” Optimus said. “I’d like you to meet Jazz, our new head of Special Operations.”

“It’s a pleasure,” he said

Prowl outstretched a servo and Jazz took it in his and returned the sentiment. When he spoke, his voice was deep and even and quiet. Jazz liked the feeling of his digits wrapped around his servo and lamented its loss when he pulled away. 

“Would you be willing to debrief Jazz?” Optimus asked. “I believe you would be best suited to do so.”

Prowl turned to Jazz and nodded at him. “Of course,” he said. “This way.”

Jazz tailed Prowl all the way to the table Prowl had been working at. There were symbols and drawings all over it. Prowl explained their purpose and meaning to him in great detail, but Jazz found he could not focus. Prowl’s voice was a monotone constant and Jazz could not help but be lulled into. 

He liked it. He never thought that a lecture on military tactics could be so relaxing. 

Jazz jerked into consciousness when he finished. Prowl turned and gathered together a stack of datapads from the corner of the table. He held them out and laid them in Jazz’s waiting servos, instructing him to read them. 

“Aw, already giving me homework?” 

Prowl almost looked surprised. “It is vital you inform yourself on the current climate of the army.”

Jazz stepped to the side and patted him on the back, careful to avoid his wings. “I’m just kidding around, I’ll read it, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Prowl turned away. “Once you’re caught up, I can begin to incorporate you and your team into my plans.”

“I look forward to it.” Jazz smiled. “I think we’ll make a great team.”

As he left, Jazz glanced down at the stack of datapads in his servo and was happy Prowl had given it to him. Jazz had not heard a single word he had said. 

* * *

Cycles later, Jazz entered Prowl’s office to find him working as intently as he was the first time he had met him. Jazz had contacted Prowl earlier about retrieving some intel for a project he and his team were working on. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited when Prowl asked him to stop by his office. 

Jazz had already read all the datapads Prowl had given him. It was a painstaking process, Jazz had never had the longest attention span. But he had done it. Not only for his job, but because he couldn’t be embarrassing himself in front of Prowl. 

From what he heard, Prowl was smart. No, he was brilliant. Jazz knew he would never be at his level, but he wanted to be able to keep up regardless. 

He waltzed in and greeted Prowl. “Was wondering if you had that intel I was looking for.”

Prowl put down the datapad and said, “I do. One moment.”

When Prowl disappeared behind his desk to search for the datapad, Jazz began wandering around his office. He had never been in here before. 

There were no pictures on the walls or mementos on his desk. He must store his personal items in his quarters, much more private that way. The only touch of character in the room was a shelf. 

He stood in front of it and admired the trinkets on display. Prowl had recreational datapads stowed away, those taking up the majority of the shelving space. There was a jar with styluses in it and a picture frame with the display screen turned off. Jazz left that one alone, knowing it was likely personal. 

In a space between two stacks of datapads, sat a crystal. It was pink and looked smooth. 

“This is nice,” Jazz said, pointing to the crystal. 

Prowl looked up and replied, “Thank you. It was a gift from my brother.”

Makes sense. Prowl was hardly ever away from them. 

“Is it special?”

Prowl did not reply at first, and for a second Jazz wondered if he had asked the wrong question. 

“I suppose in the sense of sentimental value, they are special.”

“Do they bring you good luck or something?”

“Oh, no they do not, as far as I know.” Prowl held out the datapad. “Here’s the intel.”

Jazz accepted the datapad and left the office. 

* * *

Jazz was trying, honestly trying, to get Prowl’s attention without seeming too desperate, but nothing was working. He would lay a servo on his back or shoulder and would pepper in compliments throughout their conversations. Prowl never reciprocated.

He understood that Prowl was a mech who valued his privacy and he could get behind that. Part of him wondered if Prowl despised his advances, but he never moved away from him or glared at him, so Jazz could only assume he was ok with it. 

That, or he was blind to Jazz’s attraction. He had never heard of Prowl being in a relationship and he had never heard any legitimate rumors of him initiating an affair with someone. Maybe he had just been out of the game for too long. That was ok, Jazz could work with that. 

Jazz would try to start a conversation with Prowl, asking what his interests were, but he always got the same one worded answers. Mecha had said that Prowl was boring, but he knew that wasn’t true. No one in this line of work was  _ boring _ . 

He was itching to get past those walls and figure out what was going on in his processor. There had to be something good. He wondered what his quarters looked like and what he did when he was off duty. 

One night, when leaving the rec room, Jazz spotted Smokescreen walking past the entrance. He accelerated his pace and caught up to him before he got too far. 

“Hey, Smokey,” he called. “Can I have a word?”

Smokescreen looked over his shoulder and stopped for him to catch up. “Sure.”

Now in unison, Jazz began, “Was hoping to ask you about your brother, if that’s ok.”

Smokescreen shrugged. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Well, I’ve been trying to get his attention, you know? I’ve been asking him questions about himself, but he doesn’t really answer them. Not  _ real  _ answers, anyway.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s Prowl,” Smokescreen said. “He’s pretty dense. Try not to take offense to it.”

“So, he doesn’t do it on purpose? ‘Cause I was wondering if he was doing it ‘cause he doesn’t want me to talk to him.”

“No, I doubt it. If he didn’t want you to talk to him, you’d know it. One time this mech took a liking to him and tried to touch his doorwings. Prowl didn’t like that, so he transferred him to another base the next day.”

Jazz’s visor brightened. “Just like that?”

“Yeah. I’m sure Prowl wouldn’t do that to you, though. Believe me, you’re doing fine.”

* * *

Be forward, but not too forward. Alright, Jazz could work with that. 

So he started by asking Prowl to get energon with him. He agreed and Jazz was delighted. Knowing Prowl was a busy mech, he kept it short and returned him back to his office as soon as he could. It was best to keep things casual for now. 

There were times, however, when it was difficult to maintain that composure. In meetings, Jazz couldn’t help but glance at him. He did not intend to catch Prowl’s attention, there were just times where he could not help himself. Jazz looked forward to the times where Prowl would speak in a meeting so he could have an excuse to stare. 

Those small glances were not enough for Jazz. That led him to where he was now, walking to Prowl’s office on non-official business for the fifth time that decacycle. 

They had been doing this for a while now. Jazz was certain that other mecha were beginning to notice, but as long as they didn’t make any back-handed remarks, it didn’t matter. He was starting to suspect that Prowl looked forward to their lunch dates based on tthe way he would hop out of his seat when Jazz came to retrieve him. 

That attitude disappeared when Prowl turned to him and said, “I appreciate you coming to get energon with me, but you do not have to if you do not want to.”

Jazz laughed a bit. “What?”

“I said you don’t have to get energon with me every cycle.”

“What do you mean? I like doing it.” Jazz shook his helm. “Do you like it?”

“I do, but I don’t understand why you do it.”

Jazz smiled and raised his servo. “Because I like being around you.”

“You’re just about the only one.”

Jazz was almost angry at that. “Now  _ that  _ can’t be true.”

And yet, Prowl persisted, “It is. Who else spends time around me?”

“Your brothers. I see you together all the time.”

“Someone who  _ isn’t  _ morally obligated,” Prowl argued. “I still don’t understand why you make such an effort to be around me.”

“I just told you.”

Prowl was silent for several moments. Jazz nearly turned to leave. 

“You must want something then. What is it?”

“I do. I’d like to be friends.”

“I don’t believe that. There’s something else.”

“Ok. Lovers, then?”

Prowl’s wings shot up and he vented sharply. That was not the reaction Jazz had been hoping for. 

Jazz turned towards the door and placed his servo on the handle, but halted before leaving. 

  
“I’ll give you some time to think it over,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, I dont know if this is the end of this story. i have this other piece typed up that MIGHT be able to act as a 3rd chapter. we'll see


	3. Conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro i did not expect to write a chapter 3 but so many people liked this story so I did

Jazz hurried down the hallway, slipping his digits underneath his visor and rubbing his optics. Turning a corner, he dropped his servo and slowed to a normal pace when passing by a populated area of the base. To his relief, no one stopped him for a chat and he made it quarters without issue. 

Upon entry, Jazz trudged to his room and fell onto his berth, not bothering to fix the blankets or pillows. He took off his visor and massaged his nasal ridge. 

That had not gone as planned. While he never would have expected Prowl to be so dense, he should have stopped while he was ahead. After pulling that stunt, he would be lucky if Prowl let him stay on base. He would be even luckier if Prowl ever spoke to him again outside of work. 

Jazz couldn’t get Prowl’s face out of his helm. His surprise was staggering. Maybe he should have stayed to explain himself. There was no telling what Prowl was thinking now. 

He stayed in his quarters the rest of the day, figuring that whatever work was undone could be completed tomorrow. 

* * *

The next cycle, with a renewed helm, Jazz awoke in a near panic. He rushed to his office and summoned Mirage for an emergency meeting. Upon Mirage’s arrival, Jazz frantically explained what had happened the cycle prior.

“The point is,” Jazz finished with a vent. “I’m worried about our unit.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I fragged up with Prowl and now he might take it out on the rest of us. Might place us on a landmine or something.”

“Jazz, I highly doubt Prowl is that extreme.”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand. I was talking to Smokescreen earlier about him. He said that one time this mech liked Prowl and tried to get close to him and everything and then one day he transferred the mech. Just like that, he was gone. Prowl has the power and he’s petty.”

“Ok, but you forget that we have power as well. If you get the feeling Prowl is playing unfairly, tell the Prime.”

At that, Jazz vented dramatically and collapsed back in his seat. 

“He’d be compelled to believe you,” Mirage continued. “If you provided the right evidence and explained to him what happened between the two of you.”

“I wouldn’t wanna hurt Prowl like that though.”

“But if he comes after you like you think he will, you’ll have no other choice.”

“He won’t.”

“Then why did you call me in so early in the morning?”

“I dunno.”

Mirage watched him for several kliks. They were both silent. 

“You’re going to have to talk to him sooner or later,” Mirage said. “I’ve seen things like these happen before. It’s best to address it.”

“I know,” Jazz said. “I think I should wait.”

“You should. I’m assuming Prowl is just as anxious as you are, maybe even more so. Wait for the right moment.”

“When will I know when the moment is right?”

“You’ll know when you know.”

* * *

At a complete and utter loss for any other solution, Jazz chose to take Mirage’s advice. He resumed work as usual, only now, he sent his subordinates to meet with Prowl rather than himself. 

While the system worked, Jazz was still annoyed at the level of blindness it left him with. Jazz saw Prowl so little, that he had no grasp of what the other mech was thinking or feeling.

He debated going to Smokescreen, but decided against it. Smokescreen was Prowl’s confidant and likely already had an opinion formulated. It would be best to keep the parties separate for now. 

During meetings, Jazz would still glance at Prowl. He wondered if the other mech noticed and if so, was he bothered by it? If he was, he showed no sign of it. 

Still, Jazz could not keep his optics off Prowl. Only now, his circuits no longer melted over the sight of the handsome mech. It caused him misery. 

One cycle while Jazz was fiddling with a stylus at the meeting table, he took a chance and looked across the room in Prowl’s direction. He was parallel to him, focusing on the front of the room where someone was presenting. 

His helm dipped downwards and he angled his shoulders towards Jazz, then lifted his chin and met his optics for a second. It ended as soon as it had happened.

It was then that Jazz knew the moment was right. 

* * *

Before receiving the entry ping from Prowl, Jazz had already hopped to his pedes and was standing in front of the door. It would be more welcoming for Prowl to see him up and about rather than behind a desk. 

Jazz was relieved he had to do no convincing on his end. Prowl had agreed to meet him promptly after he sent the request. 

Now, he was at the door and the door was opening and Prowl stood in the doorway. He had a datapad in his servo. Jazz smiled and waved him inside. 

“It’s good to see you,” he said. “What you been up to?”

“Nothing of importance,” Prowl said. He settled further into the room and planted his pedes on the floor, not a single moving gear in his frame. “Work, mostly.”

“Yeah, me too. But, uh, I know that’s not what you came here for. And I know how busy you are so I figured we should get right to the point.” When Prowl made no comment, he continued, “I think you and I should sort this out. It isn’t good to have two officers so distant like this.”

“I agree,” Prowl said. “Which is why I brought this.”

He extended the datapad, already online, for Jazz to read. Jazz took it and began reading the first line at the top. 

**285.7 Under no circumstances may individuals possessing rank in the Chain of Command engage in romantic relations with those who are of equal or lesser rank unless the relationship was established before** **_The Senate’s Declaration of War_ ** **.**

“What is this?” Jazz asked. 

“I combed through the Autobot Code of Conduct and found a clause that would prohibit a relationship between us.”

“You went out of your way to find a rule that stops us from being together?”

“I did.”

He would have felt betrayed if he hadn’t already known that Prowl would pull something like this. 

“Right, ok. I’ll accept this,” Jazz said. “On the condition that you answer a question for me.”

“Certainly.”

“I wanna know, if this rule didn’t exist, if you would be interested in me.”

“If I would-”

“If you would be interested in me.”

A limp digit rose to Prowl’s chin and covered his mouth. “I-”

“You ok?”

Prowl took a few unsteady steps backward. His optics squeezed shut and he fell against the closed door, servo to his helm. Jazz lunged forward and held him by the shoulders to keep him from falling further. 

“Prowl, frag, what happened?” 

He did not reply. He sank further onto the floor, dragging Jazz with him. Both servos were bracing his helm now. It looked like he was in pain. 

It was then that Jazz realized he was in the middle of a glitch. He should have known. When first being promoted, Jazz had read his file. A bit weird, but necessary given his job. One of the things mentioned was Prowl’s tendency to glitch whenever bombarded with too much data.

At first, Jazz thought it was nonsense. He had heard of Prowl’s ability to intake every ounce of data from the chaos of a battle and produce an output that would earn them a victory. But now, seeing it happen before his optics, Jazz understood what Prowl’s glitch was like. Physical chaos was normal to him, but emotional was not. 

When he first joined Special Operations, he had received a medical crash course, but had hardly paid any attention to the neurological part of the course. With that, he knew it would be damaging to keep his servos on Prowl any longer. The first thing to do was to minimize any and all sensory data. 

He removed himself from Prowl and let him relax against the door on his own. Prowl drew his knees towards his chassis and continued to hold his helm in his hands. Jazz backed away and inched towards the shelf by his desk. 

There was a medical textbook somewhere on the shelf. Jazz kept it there in case he needed to reference something when planning a mission. He had never anticipated he would be using it for something like this. 

He found it and jumped to the neurological section of the text. With his back to Prowl, he read up on glitches and how to treat them. 

The first step was to minimize sensory data. Jazz sent the command to dim the lights. The next step was to seek medical attention.

Easier said than done. If he called Ratchet, or any of the other medics, he would be forced to explain what had happened. And if he had to do that, he would be willing to bet that it would make this glitch worse. Prowl couldn’t even handle answering the question for Primus’ sake. 

Besides, he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to move Prowl from the door anyway. They were both stuck here until this passed. 

Luckily, it didn’t seem like the glitch was too severe. Prowl seemed to still be somewhat conscious and the text said minor glitches could be treated without medical intervention. Once Prowl was coherent, he could ask if he wanted to be taken to the med bay and come up with an explanation for this. 

With the datapad still in his servo, Jazz crept back to Prowl who had found some sort of bliss in his current position. He was still hunched over himself, but looked better than he had. 

Jazz took a seat next to him, careful to maintain a safe distance from him. He crossed his legs and settled the datapad in his lap. 

Prowl had doorwings, meaning he could intake sensory data even when someone wasn’t touching him. Jazz would have to be still. 

That was no issue. Jazz had gotten used to being still for long periods of time, it was oftentimes necessary in his line of work. 

He rested his back against the wall and got comfortable. His spark dimmed and his vents closed. Jazz entered a state that could not be called stasis, but could not be called consciousness either. He was hyper-aware, but did not move. 

Jazz had learned how to do this for when he was planted behind enemy lines. It was a good substitute for recharge. He could be sedentary for joors, but could still spring into action if required to do so. 

Time passed and they both remained in place. Prowl, with his helm in his servos and Jazz, resting against the wall. 

Late in the cycle, Prowl lifted his helm and looked around the room. He looked bleary, like it was morning. Jazz watched him for a klik, unsure of what to do. 

“You alright?” he asked. 

Prowl turned. “Yes. I’ll be going.”

He stood up with surprising stability and lifted a servo to open the door. 

“Hey, wait.” Jazz stood up with him. “I know you just crashed, but we still need to talk. I’ll make it fast, you won’t even have to respond if you don’t want to, yeah?”

“Go ahead.”

“I won’t ask you to answer the question I asked earlier, but I’d like it if you thought about it. I think it’s best we go back to how things were, before all this. We can’t have the two of us feuding like this, you know?”

“I understand and I agree. I think we should forget about all of this.”

“Well, I dunno if I want to forget-”

“I do. It will do us no good to have a rift between us. It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, but we could always try again another time, right?”

“In another life.”

“What?”

“The likelihood of us both surviving this war is slim. The only proper time for us to have a romantic relationship would be post-war.”

What was Prowl even saying? This was more like the drone that mecha had warned him about before accepting the position. 

“I, uh,”

“Will that be all, Jazz?”

He stopped to think. There was nothing more he could say to save this situation. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it.”

Prowl palmed the door open and disappeared behind the wall. That was the weirdest rejection Jazz had ever received. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eheheheheehehehehehehehehehehehehhehhehehehh yeah its not the best ending but I did not plan this out at all. i thought this was just gonna be a 2 chapter kinda deal but then people liked it and asked for another chapter so now we got this-  
> idk how I feel about it but :)))))))))))

**Author's Note:**

> There is a part 2 to this, it should be up tomorrow...i think


End file.
